


A Teenager, Zombies, & Bloody Magic

by deadinred



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon - TV, Canon-Typical Violence, Carl Grimes Lives, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Season/Series 08, nobody knows it's real though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadinred/pseuds/deadinred
Summary: The apocalypse was going surprisingly well for Familiar Collins. Usually, a lone woman would be easy pickings in this new world but Familiar had lucked out. Not that she hadn't met some unsavoury people on her path, but she was living in a relatively acceptable routine. Wake up, hunt/gather, avoid people as much as possible, drive, repeat.That is until she gets to Virginia.The whispers of an 'evil overlord' named Negan and his Saviors don't really bother her. But the kid hallucinating his mom while he tries to work up the energy to kill himself? Ya, that got to her a bit. Especially since she knew she could save him.-OC Centric with the main relationship to be determined-This is set in a world where magic is real but not known- Warning: this is my first fanfic in this fandom-Will attempt bi-weekly updates
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. I Become a Mom?

**Author's Note:**

> OC Centric with the main relationship to be determined (I am taking suggestions).  
> This is set in a world where magic is real but not known.  
> Warning: this is my first fanfic in this fandom.  
> Constructive criticism always appreciated!  
> Subject to possible edit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are gonna start off in medias res. Feel free to tell me if my pacing is off. I have already written the first 5 chapters so editing them to slow it down (or in general) is no big deal to me. I hope you enjoy!

People never did look kindly on Blood Magic. Tolerated and benefited from historically? Definitely. But there is just something about flowing blood that got the majority of peoples hackles raised. Those that practiced may have been respected but not like one would a leader. No, more in the way one respects a predator. That's okay though. While people looking at me like I could eat them may have bothered me as a young witch in this new world it gave me a sense of security. Which was rare now that the dead were walking around eating the living.

It had been about 4 years since the literal zombie apocalypse popped off. Now, as far as anybody I had encountered knew, humanity was reduced to small settlements that relied heavily on scavenging. So, lucky me, growing up a country kid was finally seen as the asset it always was. Basic survivalist skills, hunting practices, and farming knowledge. Say you have any one of them and it is one great way to avoid a bullet or rape. At least most of the time. Some people are just out to hurt and kill, no better than the rotting corpses in that way.

Now say that you are a witch? People will assume you are either actually crazy or a new-age 'alternative medicine' obsessed crystal toter. I guess that is better than people instantly wanting to kill you, but in a world with literal zombies, you would think people would be more open to the possibility. However, show them real magic and they always react the same. They either recognize you as a threat, see you as a potential asset, or both. Show them Blood Magic and you are likely to get the first reaction.

This is why I was happy that the kid wasn't awake to see the ritual I just used to save his life. 

Would he think it was worth it? I wondered as I ran my fingers through his long brown hair. The poor kid was about to kill himself when I stepped into the church. The fever had left him slightly delirious and barely able to hold the revolver to his head. He had thought I was his mother when I sat down beside him. 

_"Do you mind ?" I said gesturing to the pew beside the kid. He looked no older than 16, with long brown hair, and a bandage over one of his baby blue eyes. Sadly, he was also covered in sweat with a revolver shakily pre s s e d to his temple._

_" M-mom? Mom, I'm so sorry. I-I know! promised to take care of her but," he began shaking harder. I sat d own beside him and took a deep breath. He was clearly delirious and I didn't want to set him off._

_Why don't you tell me what happened?" I spoke gently as I placed my hand on his knee._

_" l-it was-" he stopped taking a deep breath and started again but steadier, "I was stupid. I got bitten. This thing with Negan..."_

_The bite gave the fever, delirium, and intended suicide context at least. He was lucky I needed consecrated ground for another ritual. Negan, however, gave me a bad taste in my mouth. Ever since coming to this region the name has been referenced like a shadow looming over the people here. While some said the name with respect, fear was the common denominator. Even amongst the more lawless nomadic groups._

_" No reason to kill yourself," I exclaimed, deciding to focus on the situation in front of me, "I know how to save you!" "I can't be saved," he whispered as he went to pull the trigger._

_Panicked, I yanked on his arm. Thankfully, the fever had already left him pretty unsteady. No way was I going to watch a kid kill themselves over something I knew how to fix. Not that it mattered, it seems the gods favour him since the gun jammed._

_" Looks like you're not supposed to die today," I sassed while he looked at his gun in my hand like it had betrayed him. The smug smile on my face was quickly wiped off as he pulled out a large knife._

_"I'm sorry Mom," he all but sobbed at me. Without thinking I slammed the but of his revolver into his head leaving him sprawled on his side on the pew. Fuck me! I thought to myself as I grabbed the kid by his armpits and tried my best to drag him out the back as quickly as possible._

My fingers gently brushed over the goose-egg I had caused as I thought back to all the times I had heard assholes tell me that revolvers don't jam in any way.

We were in the middle of the ritual site still waiting for the last of the blood sigils I had painted on the kid's body to dry. The ritual was over but I always waited for the sigils to dry just to be safe. the site was a circle of torches in a clearing. It had running water nearby in the form of a stream which was just extra energy to draw on. My collapsible alter table was about a foot in front of us and held the ritual items. A deer antler boline with 7.5" blade, a wooden ritual bowl I made from chestnut, a paintbrush made from birch and my own hair, and a cast-iron cauldron about the size of a rost pot. All that I could smell was fire, blood, and my own magick. Which smelled like petrichor and rust. 

I wish I could say the kid looked peaceful in his sleep but really he didn't. He looked like powerful foreign magic was flowing through him in an effort to keep him alive. With a faint fiery glow coming from his veins where his flesh was thinnest. Despite the twitching, it was all a good sign. While even failed this ritual would have prevented him from becoming a member of the undead his veins would instead be going black. Resembling the extreme form of blood poisoning that would have resulted in death long before the fever. So while he was having a time of it, I was quite relaxed. Felt good to save someone, especially someone so young.

I checked the large sigil on his chest again to see it was finally dry. Confident I could move without negative repercussions I began to pack my alter items away in the sports bag I had shoved under the altar table. He would wake up soon and hopefully be well enough to carry the table and some of the torches. Or at least himself. 'Cause while the zombies didn't scare me much these days I still didn't like the idea of leaving anything for the amount of time a trip to my camper and back would take me. I was in the middle of putting out the torches when the kid woke up. He was instantly looking for a weapon, which is a kind of expected behaviour for someone that grew up in our new world.

"Who are you?" He asked as he tried to steady himself, "What the hell is this?!"

I assumed by the gesture he made towards his chest and the torches he wanted to know a tad bit more about the ritual than me. _Rude._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, and critiques. Comments are always appreciated!


	2. Talking a lot and learning nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly dialogue but you do get to learn a bit of backstory behind Familiar. Please tell me if I am going a bit too fast-paced, I was having trouble when it came to starting the story so I chose in medias res. As always, feel free to comment your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, and critiques. Comments are appreciated!

"Just saving your life. No reason to freak out," I placated as I reached a hand out for him to shake, "my name is Familiar. Weird, I know. And your name?"

"Carl Grimes," he dazed as took my hand. The ki- Carl looked so out of his element it was adorable.

"Have a middle name?" | asked mischievously.

"Uh, Shane, Carl Shane Gri-" he started but I quickly smacked his hand.

"First lesson, don't give a random stranger your full name. Let alone a witch," I laughed at him. While he should have known about 'stranger danger', me scolding him for telling a witch his name probably went over his head. Simply, now that I had his full name I could use it as a taglock. Binding him to any spellwork I see fit, like curses. Not that I would, unless I had to of course. He was obviously bewildered. Instead of explaining anything I grabbed the folded alter table and shoved it into his arms.

"Let's get out of these woods," I started off towards my camper with my stuff. Not bothering to look back at Carl's reaction but keeping an ear out to make sure he followed. Carl stumbled a bit but kept up for the most part. When we got to my camper I opened up the storage compartments in the bottom for Carl to slip the table into and me to shove the unlit torches. Then I unlocked the door and opened it for him.

"Okay, um, Familiar?" He questioned as he sat down at the table. I just hummed as I got in the driver's seat.

"What now? What the hell do you want from me?" He became increasingly irritable. I really hoped that he wasn't a bratty teenager.

"Well, I was going to let you nap and then take you home. Assuming you have one," I said turning back in my chair. I couldn't quite see him other than his shoes.

"Why? Wait- no! I can't go back I wa-"

"You were bit, I know. Don't worry, if you were going to turn you would have already," I dismissed his concerns, "as I said earlier. I saved you."

"What do you mean, you saved me?" I could all but see Carl scrunching his brows and pulling slightly as he questioned.

"I stopped you from turning and dying, "I hummed lightly tapping the hearing wheel with my left thumb.

"How?" His incredulous tone sort of offended me.

"Magic." I deadpanned.

"Magic." He repeated with a slightly hysteric tone.

"Blood Magick to be specific." I chirped, fully aware I wasn't helping any.

"So you're crazy." He said and I could hear him shifting in his seat.

"You're breathing aren't you?" I sassed and turned back to the wheel and turned the key. Carl swore as he lost his balance when the RV camper lurched forward.

"So where am I heading?" I asked as I turned my headlights back off quickly.

"Do you know Hilltop?" Carl mused after a few seconds of silence.

Hilltop was one of the communities under Negan's control. While I did have a map that marked Hilltop, Kingdom, and two outposts that I 'liberated' from one of the Saviors outposts in the area I was admittedly reluctant to chance a meeting with the infamous man. But I couldn't last on my own forever and Carl was a perfect in to his community. He was clearly healthy, only slightly willowy for his age which pointed to his home having food. His eye injury was bandaged and clean, not seeming to cause him visible pain, meaning they likely either had someone with a medical background or access to medical supplies. Or if I am extra lucky, both.

I needed a place to rest. The camper was good enough when it came to the dead, but the living was another matter entirely. Just last week I was held at gunpoint as a group of men raided my RV. If it wasn't for my quick thinking and having scavenged at an abandoned outpost earlier I would have likely been raped and killed. But the promise of taking them to an unguarded but decently stocked outpost save me. In the end, they "didn't 'ave no room 'or da bitch" after scavenging as much as possible from the place, and I was able to slip away while they tried to fit themselves into their semi-truck.

"Never been, "I paused to open the glove box, " but I do have a map with it marked. So I should be able to get you there."

"What do you want?" He suddenly intoned. Admittedly, I was a bit confused by the question at first.

"Why save me? Why take me home? If you are planning to steal from us or so-" He started but I cut him off by hitting the breaks a bit hard.

"Woah, stop right there. I am not some trojan horse trying to 'infiltrate' your place. Also, I don't need a nefarious reason to want to keep as many people as possible from turning into a spiritless walking corpse, "I hissed in indignation, "all I want is to be safe, healthy, and happy. Just like everyone else. Right now I am generally healthy, but don't have the safety and happiness that a grouping animal like humans requires."

"So you want a group?" Carl said as I was starting to wonder if the condescending and slightly pissed tone he was giving me was just his default setting. He was a teen after all. Gods, it had been so long since I had to deal with a teenager.

"I want people I can rely on," I sighed. It had been a while since I had been a part of a group. Most started out the apocalypse with family or friends but I wasn't even from the U.S.A.

I had been in South Carolina transporting a crate full of German WWII uniforms to their state museum. The museum I worked for had been loaning the artifacts out in exchange for some of the South Carolina Military Museum's War of 1812 era American uniforms. As the exhibition coordinator, I took the opportunity to pick up the uniforms myself and had intended to supervise their transport. Not that that worked out. So when the epidemic popped off and people were being evacuated I was uncomfortably alone.

Carl chose not to comment and instead looked into his lap. After about a minute it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else so I put my full attention back on the road. It was maybe 20 minutes before I saw what looked to be a blockade up ahead. Thankfully, the moon was bright or I wouldn't have noticed the people around the cars before they noticed me. I pulled over quickly while I was still far enough away and turned to Carl who was asleep at my table, not even bothering to convert it into the bed. I got up and shook his shoulder causing him to startle and reach for a weapon that wasn't there.

"We're about to come up on a blockade and I have a sinking feeling they are not gonna' be friendly, " I said as I slapped my hand over his mouth, "I would rather they not know you are with me. You might be alive but you sure as hell are not at your best. Not to mention the two of us can't take on more than 5 people realistically."

"Then what do you want me to do?" He huffed at me. He was way calmer than I was at the moment. It had looked like there were over ten people at that blockade and the gods only knew what they would do when I rolled up. Instead of answering him I bent down and pealed the throw rug up to reveal the hatch that opened to the bottom compartments.

I always left enough room in the back for two people and had made panels so people wouldn't see the back from the compartment doors on the outside of the camper. Carl didn't need prompting or convincing thankfully. I quickly grabbed one of the two loaded handguns that were in my glovebox and went back to the hatch. Carl was laying down trying to get comfortable in the 8' x 4' x 2.5' space.

"Don't come out unless you know it is safe," I whispered as I gently put the gun in his hands, "do not try and be a hero. I don't care what you hear or what they do... If you get yourself killed I will bind your ghost to my camper toilet."

With that not so serious threat I shut the hatch, put the rug back in place, and got back behind the wheel. Then, I took a deep breath as I put my 'nice face' on and restarted the camper. The closer I got to the blockade the calmer I became. I could talk my way out of this. I have been in similar situations. So what if I lose my supplies and weapons? I will find more, I told myself confidently as I finally pulled up to the blockade and was nearly blinded by headlights from one of their trucks.


	3. Blockades and Bullshit

The first thing I noticed when my eyes adjusted was that they were well-armed. Next, was that there were twelve of them. Lastly, a blonde guy with a handlebar mustache that made me embarrassed for him just looking at it was gesturing for me to get out of the camper.

I turned off my engine and got out of the camper with my hands up. Compliance worked in my favour when encountering larger groups of well-armed people. I took the time to take stock of the people. They were mostly middle-aged men gathered around the lit-up truck but there were two women in my immediate sight sitting on the cab of one of the cars they used to block the road. They were without bruises and had their own weapons so it was unlikely they were mistreated. That was a major positive, it wouldn't have been the first time I encountered a band of rapists.

"Well hello there doll, " the blond man said as he stepped in front of me. A man at his side had his semi-automatic pointed at my chest but was a little off-balance with it, "mind answering a couple of things for me?" He began patting me down, which was expected. He did linger a little to long on my breasts and ass, but that was expected too. I just kept my hands up and complied. Knowing that this would be easier that way.

"We should wait for Negan's-"

"The big man says question them, search the camper, then report back," a youthful voice over a walkie-talkie cuts off one of the women. She had blond hair cut in a bob that did not suit her slightly to square face.

"Well, doll?" The blond grabbed my attention. But my mind immediately slipped to thoughts of what I had heard about Negan and his 'Saviors'.

"I wouldn't mind at all," I replied with a smile as I lowered my hands slowly to my side. Like spooked animals, fast movements would likely set them off. So best to move and act leisurely. The more comfortable I seemed the more comfortable they would be in my experience.

"Alright then. Is it just you?" He chuckled probably onto my strategy.

"Yes, unfortunately." I lied easily.

"A pretty thing like you all alone?" He gestured with his chin towards the guy with his gun on me promoting him to head towards my camper.

"Honestly, it's been a while since I was with a group. The last one ditched me cause they thought I was crazy, " I giggled back keeping my focus on the blond. He was clearly in charge out of this group if Negan wasn't there.

"What did you do to make them think you were crazy?" He laughed and looked back at the women. Despite his outward mirth, his eyes were hard and he was clearly still suspicious.

"Celebrating a holiday, "I answered honestly then laughed at the memory, "it may have involved me dancing around a bonfire at 3 am drunkenly singing in Gaelic though."

"Sounds more like a good time to me," he laughed back. A couple of the other men joined in but the chicks scowled at me, "So what kind of weapons do ya got?" 

"I have a handgun loaded with a full clip in the glovebox, a jammed revolver on my counter, and a few knives. One under the cushions of my seating area, one strapped to the side of my bed, and the last one should be on my passenger seat." I answered hoping to speed up this encounter. The other guy was taking to long in the camper and I was trying really hard not to panic. 

"Are you sure that's it?" The blond asked as he raised his one brow. 

"Yes, l-oh!" I cut myself off, "I forgot about the kitchen knife and my ritual knives!"

"Ritual knives?" He insisted with a hard glint in his eyes. "Yes, they aren't weapons," I felt the need to clarify knowing he was going to judge me anyway, " one is used for cutting things like herbs and stuff during ritual. The other is meant to symbolically cut energy".

"I think I am starting to see the crazy," one of the guys quipped. The blond was regarding me with an odd expression. It looked 2 parts curious and 1 part cautious. _Good,_ I couldn't help thinking vindictively. Then the guy finally came out of my camper. Holding my bottle of rum. 

"Chick has some of the good stuff," he gushed before taking a gulp, "two guns and four knives. Left 'em on the table. Doesn't seem to be anyone else." He shrugged as he passed by. The blond nodded and then gestured for someone to get them from the camper.

"And where are there other two knives?" He demanded after turning back to me. While I really wished he wouldn't take them I knew better than to hold out hope.

"I think they are in my sports bag in the outer compartment, "I sighed and shook my head as I watched the other guy drink the alcohol I used for offerings.

The blond moved past me and opened the compartment, "flashlight!" A skinny guy with bad acne scars rushed over to him with a flashlight in hand.

The blond spent a nerve-wracking 3 minutes routing in the compartment before pulling out my sports bag. He turned to me and held it up silently asking me if that was the one. I nodded and he quickly opened it up. I was surprised he made no comment about the bloody bowl or brush. He simply took out the knives and inspected them.

One of the two people that had gone into my camper came out holding what used to be my weapons and walked right past me. Then the other person yelled for the blond by name, "Simon?"

This caused all of the Saviors to tense up. Some even moving into position around my camper. Simon quickly threw my sports bag back into the compartment, but kept my athame and boline in his left hand, and grabbed my arm roughly with his right. He then all but dragged me into my camper. I tried to quell my panic and come up with a plan. I was sure they had found Carl at that moment. Only to be proven wrong when Simon and I were faced with a confused Savior standing in front of an open cabinet.

"I have no idea what I am lookin' at but it's some weird shit, " the Savior said as he opened the cabinet wider.

Simon scanned my cabinet of herbs, crystals, animal bones, spell jars, poppets, and other craft items with confusion. Then the other guy grabbed a hex bag and I literally cackled.

"Don't touch a fucking thing," Simon hissed frantically shutting the cabinet. He snatched the bag from the other Savior and then dragged me out of the camper. I was confused until he pulled out a lighter and snatch my rum from the Savior that first searched my camper. It hit me that he knew what the bag was as he threw it on the ground, dumped the rest of the rum on it, and set it on fire.

"You didn't have to be so dramatic, " I snickered, "it wasn't activated. Just something I had premade a while ago."

"Well I'm not taking chances," Simon muttered and let go of my arm. He paused to look at me again. Then, licking his lips, he handed me my ritual knives back and took out a walkie-talkie.

"Hey, Big Man? It's Simon, got an update for ya," he said in a fake as fuck pleasant tone.

"Oh, whatcha got for me?" A male voice replied stretching out the 'oh'. I knew just from the sound of their voice they were a prick.

"About the camper. Lone woman. Looks like late 20s. Two guns, three knives minus the kitchen. Not too much when it comes to supplies, mostly herbs and shit." He answered quickly not mentioning my ritual knives.

"1-10?" The prick asked back causing Simon to look me up and down. I tried really hard not to sneer back, not liking being rated at all.

"I'd say 7, maybe an 8 if she cleaned up," he snorted as I tried and failed not to get mad at being rated. There was a pause,

"...Give her the talkie." Simon hesitated for a moment before handing the walkie-talkie to me.

I took a breath and silently gestured to the buttons on it asking which to press.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, and critiques. Comments are always appreciated!


	4. Negan's an Okay Prick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice that I use the standard British spelling of many words, it's 'cause I am Canadian, while still spelling "Saviors" without the u. Well, that's because it is a name in this context and so the way that they would spell it is the way it should be spelled. Not that it isn't killing me inside to have to delete the u since I always forget not to type it lol.

I pressed the large button on the side of the walkie-talkie after taking a grounding breath. After all, I was about to talk to the 'territorial overlord' of this region and as far as I could guess Carl's people were under him. This meant that I did not want to get put on his shit list if I wanted to be a part of any groups around here.

"Hello? My name is Familiar." I said a tad bit slow, not sure how easily he could understand on his end. I let go of the button and waited, looking around at the Saviors around me. They all seemed relaxed except Simon, who was watching me with that odd look on his face still.

"Well hello Familiar. Odd nickname you got there. I'm Negan," he drawled back to me.

"It's not a nickname, my mom was weird and sentimental," I quickly rebutted. My tone was just a tad bit too sharp and I instantly regretted it. I just hated it when people assumed it was some sort of pseudonym and dismissed it. It might be weird, but it is still my name.

"Hmmm," he dismissed, "I was wonderin' if you had run into anyone recently?"

"Other than a group of rednecks just outside of Virginia? No. They took most of my supplies though. I was hoping that Virginia would be greener pastures," I supplied easily hoping the half-truth would gain me some sympathy points but not expecting much.

"Well damn Darling, that's too bad," he replied sounding genuine, "You are in luck though, cause I keep my people well-fed. You are free to come back with my guys in the morning as long as you're willing to contribute. Nothing too harsh, cooking or cleaning probably. Unless you got some good skills?"

I took a minute. I did want a group but I doubted they would take too kindly to me having hidden Carl from them. He was just a kid though and I could probably get away with saying I was worried for my 'little brother'. The familial concern is a normal reason to want to hide a human being, especially kids in this day and age. However, ever paranoid, the situation just didn't seem right to me. Were they after him? I could not help asking myself, they were clearly looking to catch someone or I wouldn't be standing at this blockade right now. It was clear something was going on in this region and it didn't bode well. But I had a kid in the bottom of my camper and had already committed to saving him. 

"Well Negan, that is a very kind offer but I'm gonna' be honest with you," I said trying to sound as sheepish as possible, "the blockade and questions about having run into people have me a bit nervous. Sounds like something is going on around here and I am not sure I want to be around if it escalates."

Negan's laugh was booming even if it was a bit distorted by the device between us, "I don't blame you one bit Darling. How about this? My guys will give you your stuff back and you check back with us in about a week? I promise that what we got going on will be handled by then."

At this, the Saviors in front of me seemed apprehensive, but it was an easy deal. To good to pass up. I took another look at Simon. He was glaring daggers at me, probably not liking the idea of a witch in his group.

"That sounds reasonable. Where would you want me to meet you?" I asked knowing that it was completely unlikely that I would be showing up.

"Simon will tell you a place. Now I am sorry but I have a wife to entertain," he was clearly dismissing me so I handed the walkie-talkie back to Simon. Simon didn't even have to tell the other Saviors to give me back my stuff as they were already moving to put it all back in my RV. These people were obviously used to sudden dismissals and having to infer partial orders from them.

Negan might sound like a prick with his drawl and drawn out words but he was decent enough to give a lone woman her weapons back and offer them a place in their group. That made them more okay than most of the men I had encountered in this new world.

Simon dragged me into my camper again after the others had come back out. He grabbed the marker for the dry erase board and wrote an address on the board in surprisingly neat writing. Then he turned back to me with a scowl.

"If you are smart then you won't go to that address next week," he hissed at me like there was an actual chance I would show up. The reality was that if this thing with Carl went sideways then I would continue driving to the next state and, maybe eventually, home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, and critiques. Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
